Broken Potter
by Lunar Snorkack
Summary: Harry Potter did not come to Hogwarts able to leave his past behind him. The 'lessons' learned from his relatives would always be a part of him.


Chapter 1

The Hogwarts Express had arrived at Hogsmeade, and the Head Boy was doing a final sweep of the compartments, ensuring that all of the students had left for the school. Coming to the last compartment on the train, he saw a small boy still sitting in one of the seats.

"Hey there, time to get up to the castle with the rest of your year mates," he said, but received no response from the boy.

The small boy, dressed in large, baggy clothing that was several sizes too large, sat staring out of the compartment window, long black hair covering most of his face, with dull green eyes barely visible in his reflection of the window.

"Come along, then. Let's get off the train." the Head Boy tried again. At first there was again no response, then the small boy stood up and moved to the compartment door, the Head Boy backing up to let him pass. "You should have changed into your school robes already, you know," he told the boy, but again received no response.

"Well, that way," the Head Boy directed him, pointing up the passage towards the head of the train. "Hagrid will take you up to the castle. Off to the platform with you now."

After another moment, the small boy went up the train corridor, exiting the train onto the Hogsmeade platform, where the last of the first years were following Hagrid towards the boat landing.

Following slowly after them, he came to the boat landing after Hagrid had started all of the boats across the lake to the Castle. Stopping at the landing, the small boy stood there, staring unseeingly at the lake.

Across the lake, the small flotilla of first years had reached the boat landing below the Castle, while the small boy was still standing at the launch point. Suddenly, a large tentacle came out of the water and wrapped itself around the boy, lifting him gently off his feet, and then proceeded to carry him across the lake where it deposited him on the landing below the Castle, as the last of the first years disappeared up the path to the Castle. Pushing him forward lightly, the tentacle directed him to follow the rest of the first years up the path.

As he reached the back of the group of first years, he was spottedby Hagrid, who had been counting them, and was wondering where he had lost one at. "There ya are! Thought I'd lost one of ya."

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes with a very stern face stood there looking at the new first years.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor where they could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right - the rest of the school must already be here - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously, with the small boy standing by himself at the side of the door.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term feast will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville Longbottom's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron Weasley's smudged nose.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber.

After a short time, a number of the Hogwarts ghosts entered the room and several of them talked to some of the first years, welcoming them to the Castle, before "Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me." Walking out of the room, she did not notice that the small boy with the baggy clothing did not move to follow the rest of the first years as they left the room behind her.

They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall, which was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and fairly dirty.

Everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffles are true and unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin,  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

Professor McGonagall continued calling names until, finally, she called "Potter, Harry!" and the entire hall went quiet as everyone looked to see the Boy-Who-Lived.

There was no response from any of the first years waiting to be sorted, with none of them moving forward to the Sorting Hat.

Again she called, "Potter, Harry!" and after another minute of no response, glanced up to the head table to see Professor Dumbledore give her a nod to continue, went on with the rest of the names on the scroll.

There were only a few left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," went to Gryffindor, "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw, "Weasley, Ron" went to Gryffindor, and "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin.

No one noticed the small boy in baggy clothes, standing quietly to the side of the door in the small chamber near the entrance to the castle.


End file.
